


Stellar (Meet Me In Outer Space)

by youaresunlight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Space, Art By Ghostral, Astronaut AU, Astronaut Castiel, Astronaut Dean, Bottom Dean, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Reconciliation, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaresunlight/pseuds/youaresunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All things considered, Dean Winchester's life is pretty swell. He's a flight engineer for NASA, living aboard the International Space Station, and also in his expedition crew is Dr. Castiel Novak, his best friend from college with whom he shared a longtime dream of working in space.</p><p>Except, Cas isn't his best friend anymore, and hasn't been since their epic fallout eight years ago. Now it's up to Dean to figure out what exactly went wrong and try to fix it, which would be a lot easier if Cas would actually talk to him, and a lot less complicated if Cas weren't so damn attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stellar (Meet Me In Outer Space)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justkeeponwriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkeeponwriting/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: "cuddling" | This fic started out as solely a college!AU, but I knew that I wanted to write a reconciliation story and wasn't sure which careers to give Dean and Cas in the present. Then I happened across an article in _Time_ about astronauts on the ISS, and the rest, as they say, is history. Now I can finally close the thirty-plus tabs I had open about NASA.
> 
> Credit for the beautiful art and dividers goes to my lovely friend [ghostral](http://ghostral.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. I'd also like to thank my dear friend R for her beta work and invaluable cheerleading. The title is a lyric from the song "Stellar" by Incubus.
> 
> For your convenience, I've included hover text to explain a few locations and acronyms.

****

 

**Wednesday, June 18, 2014**

**_Expedition 67 Launches to the International Space Station_ **

_The Soyuz TMA-18M rocket launched from theBaikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan on Wednesday, Jun. 18, 2014, carrying Flight Engineers Charlie Bradbury, Benjamin Lafitte, Castiel Novak, and Dean Winchester of NASA and Flight Engineer Bela Talbot of the European Space Agency into orbit to begin their four-month mission on the International Space Station._

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

**Friday, June 20, 2014**

They dock on schedule, at oh-nine-hundred hours, and Dean can’t quite believe that he’s here.

“Pretty surreal, huh?” Charlie supplies aptly.

Dean turns from looking out the window to nod at her, his mind still completely boggled by the view. “Is Benny taking photos yet?”

“I’m sure he will as soon as he acclimates.” Charlie glances past his shoulder, whistling before turning back to him. “How are you?”

“I’m…” Dean laughs and gestures to his feet, which are hovering. “I’m in space.”

“Dork,” Charlie teases, but her wide eyes do a poor job of hiding her own excitement. “We’ve got a great crew too, don’t you think?”

Dean hesitates. “Yeah, everyone seems… you know. Great.”

“Uh huh… What’s the deal with you and Cas?”

“What?” Dean frowns and tries not to squirm. “Nothing. We just- We went to the same college. I told you that.”

“Yeah, and that’s the _only_ thing you told us.” She makes it sound like this is a serious injustice. “We have to live with you two for months, Dean. On an artificial satellite.”

“Yes, it’s all very dramatic,” Dean sighs. “Look, don’t worry. I won’t be weird, alright? I promise.”

Charlie appears skeptical, but doesn’t press the issue further.

“Meeting with Ground Control, guys,” Benny calls.

“Be right there,” Charlie replies, then gives Dean a look whose meaning he really doesn't dare to decode.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

The meeting runs just over an hour, consisting mainly of precautions and warnings and reminders. It’s a dense and fast-paced overview of their protocol, but Dean knows it’s important so he listens - and watches Cas.

Some aspects of Cas haven’t changed, like his blue, blue eyes and the inherent gravity in all of his actions. His voice is still deep, attractive in a velvet-over-rocks kind of way, but Dean didn’t pick that up from talking to Cas himself; he can count on one hand the number of times they've spoken while training in Houston.

It didn’t used to be like this, all distant and stiff and stilted. Cas was once his biggest supporter - would say, “You’re going into space someday, and I’ll be right there with you.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Dean remembers telling him.

But then it all went downhill and Dean’s world now feels very cold.

 

 

**Tuesday, January 24, 2006**

It’s a quarter past eight when Cas steps out of his dorm.

The hallway is deserted, not that he expected otherwise. The floor is made up of juniors and seniors, none of whom would enroll in a class that starts before ten. His roommate is no exception to this rule; Dean is fast asleep since his lecture isn’t till noon.

Cas shuffles down the stairs to the first-floor kitchen, still in his pajama pants and pushing a hand tiredly through his hair. He opens the fridge for the bag he labeled ‘do not eat,’ and is relieved to find that his groceries are intact. Cas cradles the bag with one arm, using his free hand to reach for a pan. He inspects it carefully and decides it could use a wash - the last person who cooked with it clearly didn’t believe in dish soap.

Cas sighs, sets the bag down on the counter, and dumps a whole load of dirty utensils into the sink.

Half-an-hour later, the kitchen smells about ten times better, the aroma of sizzling bacon having replaced the musty odor of cheese and popcorn. Cas hums by the stove, smiling as he adds chopped chives to the scrambled eggs. It’s probably too fancy an ingredient for a college student, but then this isn't just any meal he’s putting together.

He drains the bacon on some paper towels when they’re done, and turns off the burners so he can scoop the eggs into the Tupperware. He shuts the container to seal in the heat, moves the bacon onto a plate for transport, then balances both things in his hands as he heads upstairs, hoping that Dean won’t mind getting up to open the door.

He knocks with his elbow and waits. Dean answers after a moment, bleary-eyed.

“Cas?” he frowns, most likely wondering what Cas is doing outside their room. “Why aren’t you-” his gaze falls on the food and he blinks, once at the bacon, once at Cas. “Is that…?”

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Cas says as he steps over the threshold. “I thought you might like something home-cooked, rather than… you know.”

“Jesus.” Dean’s eyes are wide and so, so green. “You really- You made this for me?”

“Yes.” Cas feels a flush start to slowly creep up his neck. “It’s just bacon, Dean. And scrambled eggs. It isn’t… gourmet by any means.”

“Who cares about gourmet? Dude, you got up early to cook all this in that shitty kitchen. That’s-” Dean takes the plate of bacon and curls his other hand around Cas’ elbow. “C’mere.”

Dean leads Cas through their tiny common space into his bedroom, where most of the wall is covered with band posters and an inconceivably huge sticker of the NASA logo. He crumples his comforter into a haphazard pile by the headboard, and instructs Cas to sit before rummaging through his shelves for forks.

Cas puts the eggs on top of a physics textbook he grabs off the floor. The bed bounces a little when Dean plops down with the bacon, and he’s also holding a carton of juice that Cas starts to eye exasperatedly.

“Do you have any cups?” Cas asks.

Dean simply points at his desk, where there’s a chipped mug filled with far too many highlighters. “I’m using it for my pens.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I have a couple in my room.”

“Nah, don’t bother,” Dean shrugs, reaching for a strip of bacon. “We can share.” He lifts the bacon to his mouth and groans obscenely once he takes a bite. “God, this is good.”

Cas’ cheeks grow conspicuously red. “Try the eggs too.”

Dean nods at the suggestion, happily removing the lid himself. Cas watches him gather a forkful, looking wondrous. “D’you put chives in these? Ooh, and cheese?” The subsequent moan takes away any chance Castiel had at replying.

“Mm,” Dean says after three bites. “You should open up a restaurant.”

“Oh, really?” Cas huffs out a laugh. “My menu would have two items, Dean.”

“Sure, but you could be famous for ‘em.”

“I think you’re just very hungry right now,” Cas smiles, and there’s a flutter low in his belly at the sight of Dean sighing around the bacon again.

“Eat,” Dean mumbles with a full mouth, distracting Cas by pushing a fork into his hand. His cheeks are puffed like a chipmunk’s and it’s adorable - perhaps too adorable for nine o’clock. Cas can’t handle Dean like this so early, even if he did bring it upon himself.

“Thank you,” he manages somehow, and they eat in comfortable silence for a while, sharing the food, passing the juice back and forth.

“This was great,” Dean tells him, when they're finished and their stomachs are full. “Seriously. Thanks, man, you’re the best.”

Cas feels the heat spreading across his face again. “You’re welcome.”

Dean stacks the Tupperware on top of the plate, holds it all together as he rises from the bed. Cas tries to stop him but he defiantly shakes his head, says, “No, I’ll take care of this. You can come with me so I’m not bored though.” He grins when Cas sighs but ultimately complies, and they head out into the hallway where a few doors are now propped open. They can hear the sound of running water coming from the bathrooms.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Jo greets as they pass her. She gives Dean a sweet little hug despite her hair being wet from a shower. Dean doesn’t seem to care.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he croons, full of charm. Jo shoves at his shoulder playfully and says ‘hey’ to Cas before slipping into her room next to theirs.

“You just have one class today, right?” Cas asks when they’re down in the kitchen. Dean is squeezing dish soap onto a sponge and picking up the pan Cas had left soaking in water.

“Yeah, my Circuits seminar. Why?”

“Um…” Cas fidgets helplessly with the loose roll of paper towels. “Well, you know that theater downtown that plays old movies? They’re showing _The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_ tonight and I thought- You like Clint Eastwood, so we could…”

“They are?” Dean brightens considerably and Cas allows himself to feel hopeful, because maybe… “Shoot, I wish you’d told me earlier.”

“Oh,” Cas tries to hide his disappointment. “Do you have plans?”

Dean smiles at that, a smile that Cas can tell isn’t for him. “Uh, you know that girl I told you about? Kaley? The one who plays lacrosse?”

“The brunette,” Cas confirms weakly, his own heart sinking further by the second.

“Yeah, her.” Dean makes an appreciative noise, his mind presumably wandering to eye-catching curves and perfect hair. “I asked her out last week. Told her our date would be on my birthday and she got all excited about baking me cupcakes. Sorority girls, huh?”

Cas has no idea what sororities have to do with baking. His ears are buzzing too loudly for him to think.

“So anyway, I’m meeting her at six.” Dean scrubs at a spot on the spatula. Cas remains quiet. “We’ll go see the movie this weekend or something. Does that work?”

“Of course,” Cas murmurs, omitting that the film’s limited run will end on Friday. By Saturday, it’ll be _Roman Holiday_ , which Cas knows Dean wouldn’t prefer to see. He doesn’t mention that he waited three months for the theater to show something Dean would like.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Cas dutifully goes through the motions of his day, attending his Galactic Astronomy and Cosmology lectures, taking notes and speaking up at the appropriate times. After Cosmology gets out at four, Cas walks across campus to the cafe inside the library, where he exchanges hellos with Alfie, a sweet-faced sophomore who also works there. He then fetches his apron off the rack next to the microwave.

His shift is just under two hours, at the end of which Cas truly regrets looking at the clock. The hour hand points resolutely to the six, a reminder that Dean is probably opening the Impala door for Kaley right this minute. Cas shakes his head to erase the thought, however futile.

“Cas, are you alright?”

Cas glances up, unaware of having drawn attention to himself. Alfie is standing in front of him, head cocked to the side, untying his own apron and eyeing Castiel with concern.

“I’m fine,” Cas forces a smile. “Just tired.”

“I bet,” Alfie says sympathetically. “You’re an astrophysics major, right?” He lets out a soft whistle when Cas nods. “I can’t _imagine_ doing that much science.”

He winces like it pains him to even think about studying the topic, and this time around Cas’ smile is small but genuine. “But aren’t you a religion major?” he asks. “I’d cry if all my finals were papers.”

Alfie laughs, and it’s a light, happy sound. “Guess we both chose appropriately then.” His eyes drop down to his apron, rolled up now, before lifting back up to Cas, this side of shy. “By the way, did you, um, want your two coffees like usual?”

“Hmm?”

“You always take two cups with you, at the end of your shift.” Alfie already has two cups and two sleeves in his hands, waiting. “One regular and one decaf?”

Oh. He means the coffee that Cas always takes back to Dean. Cas wonders when he became so predictable. “Just the decaf today,” he tells Alfie dejectedly. “And I can get it myself, it’s fine.”

Alfie just waves his hand as he walks toward the machine. “Don’t worry about it.” He says some other things over the hiss of the dispenser, more small talk, and though Cas responds politely to everything, he can’t help but feel a bit despondent at the single cup.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Cas swipes into his dorm building at six fifteen, the tip of his nose turned pink from traversing the campus in freezing winds. The coffee that Alfie poured for him is the only thing keeping Cas from becoming a human icicle, and he cradles the beverage close to his chest as he climbs the three flights of stairs to his own floor.

He takes one hand off the cup to fish for his keys, since Dean most likely locked up on his way out. Which is why he’s surprised to find their door slightly ajar, and even more caught off guard at the sight of Dean sprawled over the couch.

“Dean?” Cas sets his coffee down on a bookcase and unravels his scarf. “I thought you’d be out.”

“So did I,” Dean mumbles. There’s a can of beer already half-empty and crinkling inside his hand.

Cas’ mouth dips into a frown as he walks over to sit beside him. “What happened?” he hedges after some silence. Dean sighs and turns sideways in his seat, so that he’s leaning against the arm with both of his feet tucked under Cas’ thigh. It’s how they usually sit when Cas gets Dean to talk, or in this case, vent.

“She had a sorority thing,” Dean rolls his eyes. “She wasn’t even at her dorm when I drove over there. I had to _call her_ and she was like, ‘Oh, I’m at Kappa. Oh no, we had dinner plans, didn’t we?’”

Cas’ frown deepens and he wants to yell at something, yell at the girl. Because if he were ever so lucky to have a date planned with Dean- God, he’d never forget. How could anyone possibly forget?

“Didn’t wish me a happy birthday either,” Dean continues with a laugh. “So much for the fucking cupcakes. Well, maybe it’s for the best. I hate ‘em anyway.”

“… She forgot that it’s your birthday?” Cas must sound so totally incredulous because Dean grins, shifts his foot to nudge him.

“Hey, not everyone can be you, Cas.”

Cas smiles back, grateful that his pink cheeks are obscuring the blush blooming beneath them. “And don’t you forget it,” he teases lightly, and it’s one of his favorite sounds ever to hear Dean chuckle in response.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Dean hums, then scoots a little closer so that Cas catches a hint of his aftershave. “Think we can still catch that movie downtown?”

“Yes, it…” Cas pauses to dial down his tone, to not seem as excited as he feels. “It’s playing at eight.”

“Sweet.” Dean folds his arms over his knees, resting his chin on top. “Should we go earlier to get tickets?”

“I, um,” Cas ducks his head, gaze drifting to his bedroom door. “I bought them. Yesterday.”

“You…” Dean groans and buries his face into his forearm. “Cas, you’re just setting me up to fail now. I’m gonna have to start planning your birthday tomorrow, and it’s not until _July_.”

Cas laughs and pushes a hand through Dean’s hair. “It’s alright, Dean. I’ll only expect you to fly to Illinois and cook me breakfast. And take me to a movie.”

Dean angles his head to peek at Cas with just his left eye - and still manages to glare. “Last day of spring term,” he warns. “I’ll cook up a storm in that stupid kitchen. French freakin’ toast, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Cas replies kindly. Dean gives a quiet ‘hmph’ of satisfaction before slowly closing his eyes again, letting Cas’ fingers run through his soft, dark blond locks.

“Wanna look at the stars?” Dean asks after a while. The question is muffled but Cas catches every word, clear as day.

“You don’t want to go to dinner?”

Dean finally raises his head, and there’s a faint crease mark on his cheek from his sleeve that Cas wishes he could smooth out with his thumb. “We can swing by a drive-thru or something.”

If Dean were anyone else, Cas would’ve asked if burgers and fries were really okay, but knowing Dean - and knowing himself - Cas nods his assent and says, “Hang on a sec.”

He brings a blanket from his room and lays it out, folding it once to provide some padding. Dean walks toward the door in the meantime, waiting until Cas is sitting down to switch off the lights.

“Don’t- I forgot the pillows,” Cas murmurs in Dean’s direction.

“S’fine,” comes the answer, and then there’s rustling as Dean ambles over to sit down. And when Cas turns around to look at Dean a moment later, he sees the silhouette of his best friend on his back. “C’mon, Cas,” he says, and he’s holding out his right arm in invitation.

Cas hesitates, heart pounding like mad, but eventually gives in and slides into Dean’s embrace. He doesn’t lie on his side or snuggle against Dean or do anything that might take this too far. Yet it’s difficult to do away with the desire when Dean is so warm, his bicep solid and steady beneath Cas’ nape.

“Jesus, how long were you outside?”

Cas turns his head and Dean is staring at him, their faces stupidly close. “What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Oh.” Cas isn’t sure what he should do. “Sorry.”

Dean shrugs, as much as he can with Cas’ body there like a paperweight. “I didn’t mean apologize. Just dress warmer when we leave again. You sure that scarf is real wool?”

“Yes, Dean. Your mom knitted it for me, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean smiles, and Cas marvels at its curve, the easy confidence. “Well, wear mine too, ‘cause I swear to god you’re not built for New England.” He doesn’t wait for Cas’ reply before shifting to stare at the ceiling, where a hundred glow-in-the-dark stars are now illuminated in various constellations. “Wow, look what we’ve got here. Hey, explain the stars for me, Dr. Novak. Which one is Aquarius?”

Dean knows exactly which one; Cas has pointed it out dozens of times. But it’s a tradition, something of _theirs_ , of two best friends dreaming of going into space someday. So Castiel, pleading with his heart to take a break from being lovelorn, puts on his best scholarly voice and tells Dean the mythologies of Aquarius, Aries, and Leo. Because it isn’t Dean’s fault that Cas is hopelessly in love with him, and it isn’t Dean’s fault that Cas can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else.

 

 

**Wednesday, July 9, 2014**

“Charlie, do we have any of that chocolate cake left?”

“Cake?” Charlie mumbles around her coffee. She snaps the straw shut before releasing the pouch, letting it float near her mouth. “Don’t know about the others but I have one that I’m saving for dessert tonight.”

Dean shoots her a hopeful look. “Can I trade you my apple for it?”

Charlie laughs. “You’ve already taken a bite, you dork.” She watches Dean sigh at his half-eaten Granny Smith and adds, “S’there a reason you can’t wait? The next cargo drop is in three days.”

Dean winces like he doesn’t want to say, which only makes Charlie want to wheedle it out of him. She grabs the edge of their table to haul herself closer. “C’mon, Winchester. Spill.”

“It isn’t a big deal,” he shrugs, in a tone that implies that it’s a huge deal. “Just trying to plan something.”

“Right,” Charlie tilts her head at his reticence, because above all else, she’s intrigued. “What’s the occa-”

“Charlie?”

The call was for her but Dean startles anyway, and they both turn to find Castiel hovering in the doorway. He’s steadying himself with a hand on either side of the doorframe, and even Charlie can appreciate how his t-shirt stretches across his chest.

“Yeah, what’s up, Cas?”

“I wanted to check if you were okay with shutting our windows. I’d do it myself but I’m due for work prep in five minutes.”

“No problem,” Charlie replies breezily, waving a hand between her and Dean. “We’ll take care of it.”

That prompts Cas’ gaze to fall on Dean, regarding him in a way that’s far too charged to be impassive. “Dean,” he greets flatly, as if finally acknowledging Dean’s presence, then with a tiny nod of his head, he’s gone, and Dean seems so flustered that Charlie can’t help the pang of sympathy, or awareness.

“What’re you planning for him?” she tries gently, and her inkling is confirmed in the face of Dean’s wide, disquieted eyes. She doesn’t look away, but to be fair, neither does Dean, and for a moment there’s nothing filling the lull save for the low hum of engines and some muffled conversations in the distance.

“It’s his birthday tomorrow.”

Charlie is admittedly a little stunned, because there was never any indication that they’re… friends? Close enough to remember a birthday, at any rate.

“Oh,” she murmurs back, caught in a rare instance of speechlessness. “Should we, um… Did you want some help setting up the party?”

Dean shakes his head, his shoulders still squared with tension. “He wouldn’t want a fuss, especially not a party. The last time I…” A sad smile tilts up the corner of Dean’s mouth, one that disappears with him clearing his throat. “Anyway, no surprises, alright?”

“Sure, and make sure Benny knows that.” Dean huffs an agreeing laugh and Charlie relaxes, deciding to curb her curiosity for later. “I’ll put the chocolate cake in your cabinet after lunch.”

Dean appears grateful, and relieved, all too unquestionably sappy for her taste. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just go get started on the windows, will ya?”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

**Thursday, July 10, 2014**

“So you knew each other in college?”

Dean sighs, unsure of how much he’s willing to divulge. Benny has been dropping questions like this all morning, and not even the casual air with which he asks them manages to make him sound any less journalistic. “Yeah, we did. Same school, same year.” _Roommates_. _Best friends_. Dean bends forward to crank the lever on the ARED , adding another fifty pounds for Benny to lift; the guy’s a beast.

“Friends?” Benny prompts, again with a feigned nonchalance.

“Sure,” Dean says gruffly, and when Benny doesn’t respond, takes the opportunity to change the subject. “D’you call Andrea?” It’s an obvious escape but, like with most things, Benny lets it roll off his back.

“Yup, she’s doin’ good, a little lonely. Says the weather is hot as balls,” Benny laughs at this, full of nothing but fondness, and the sound is so infectious that Dean can’t resist joining in. “Our anniversary’s comin’ up in September and- I don’t know, brother, s’gonna be hard not being home.”

Dean groans. “Alright, keep rubbing it in. You’re married, you’re happy, you’re gross.”

“What, you’re saying you don’t have someone?” Benny looks truly surprised.

“Not anyone serious.”

Dean is caught off guard by how doleful he sounds, doesn’t know when his penchant for one night stands became a reason for self-pity instead. And normally he’d brush it off, blame it on school; master’s degrees don’t earn themselves. But something tells him that the excuse won’t fly with Benny, who’s only two years older yet blissfully married, while Dean is single and losing some unofficial life race.

“Dean, can I speak with you?”

The voice is familiar, jerking him out of his thoughts. For a second Dean just stares down at Benny, who rolls his eyes and mouths, “That’d be you, chief.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean blurts too loudly. He braces himself on the bar to turn around. “Sure, Cas, after you.”

The awkwardness between them is only heightened by how long it takes them to move to the kitchen, though once there Dean is distracted by certain things by the very virtue of Cas being the only other person in the room. He notices the absurd hair, a defiant mop of brown going in every direction. Cas’ hair has always been impossible and Dean doesn’t know why it stands out to him so starkly now. He also notices the stubble, shadowing a jaw Dean swears wasn’t that sharp before. One feature that hasn’t changed are Cas’ eyes, blue and brilliant, but otherwise the man has filled out, all lean muscle and tanned skin and Dean feels his mouth dry up like day-old bread.

Dean suddenly wishes he had pockets where he could stick his hands. They’re flexing at his sides now like they’ve completely lost track of their function. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Cas looks at him blankly, the way he used to look at anyone who wasn’t Dean. “You remembered,” he states with an infuriating calm. So he did get the email Dean sent him that morning.

“‘Course I remembered, Cas.” Dean doesn’t mean to sound so bitter. The last thing he wants is for them to fight - again. “We weren’t-” he sighs. “You came home with me for crying out loud.”

Cas’ eyes actually soften a bit, which is far more favorable than any response Dean expected. “… How is Sam?” Cas inquires gently, and even Dean can tell he’s treading carefully.

“Sam’s good,” Dean says honestly, his back straightening with pride. “He, um, he’s going into his second year at Stanford Law.”

Cas smiles at that and Dean’s breath catches in his throat. It’s just so damn sincere and Dean would give anything to have it directed at him. “Sam was always so smart,” Cas says, with a genuine fondness like he were describing his own sibling. “Where did he go to undergrad?”

“Stanford for undergrad too. Met a girl named Jess his sophomore year in a hiking club.” Dean stresses ‘hiking’ with a little huff and hears Cas laugh. God, he’d missed that sound. “They got engaged in April.”

“Engaged?” Cas’ eyes go wide and he instantly appears younger, and it’s like they’re in their dorm room again, the microgravity notwithstanding. “So, Sammy’s all grown up.”

“You were the only other person allowed to call him that.”

“And yet I didn’t,” Cas reminds him. “I was also the nice one.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?”

The corner of Cas’ mouth twitches up, and it sort of hits Dean like a ton a bricks that Cas pulls off the look incredibly well. “That’s how it is,” Cas says, and the tension seems to seep out with the words.

“Well, uh,” Dean shifts his gaze toward the cabinets. “Before I forget.” He opens up the storage container and reaches inside for the pouch he knows is there.

Cas squints at the label when Dean hands him the package, which now has ‘happy birthday’ written on it in a caps-locked scrawl. Dean can’t quite decipher the expression clouding Cas’ face.

“I know it’s not the real thing,” Dean starts, “but I thought it’d be nice for you to, um, you know, have something to make a wish on.” Cas, for his part, hasn’t said anything, and as much as Dean’s stomach is trying to knot itself up, he finds himself unable to stop talking. “You didn’t develop a chocolate allergy or anything, right? I- I guess it _has_ been eight years.”

“No,” Cas murmurs, eyes still glued to the cake. “No allergies.” He finally looks up. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Sure,” Dean nods. “Happy birthday.”

Cas smiles then lowers his eyes to his wristwatch. “I should go check in with Bela at the lab, but… I’ll see you at dinner.”

“I’ll be here,” Dean says kind of needlessly, but Cas acknowledges the remark anyway with an achingly familiar tilt of his head.

 

 

**Thursday, March 30, 2006**

Kaley the lacrosse player is forgotten within a week, swiftly replaced by a whole slew of others who pass through in an array of majors and demands. Bre is a senior with a double major in math and pong, and Stacy is an art major who treats Dean like her own chauffeur. Connie is a bio major who sings in an all-female a capella group, and Dean throws in the towel after she makes him marathon an entire season of “The Sing-Off.”

The slim silver lining for Cas is that he never sees these girls in their dorm. Because one, Dean would probably die of embarrassment if Cas heard anything - albeit, so would Cas - and two, going to her room always makes for an easier departure in the morning, according to Dean.

It still hurts, of course - a dull but perpetual ache in his chest. Cas has a certain duty as the best friend, which involves listening to Dean’s recaps about his dates and attempting to answer questions like, “She’s pissed at me, Cas. Should I get her flowers?” He takes comfort in the fact that none of these flings ever seem to last, that he and Dean spend ample time together, have their meals and movies, a space to themselves. He tries hard to convince himself that he’ll be satisfied with whatever he can have with Dean. Because when push comes to shove, Cas would always, _always_ choose Dean’s company over nothing at all.

And then, on an unusually cold day in March, Dean meets a fellow junior named Lisa.

Lisa Braeden is warmth and fire, all bronze skin and pretty dark features and a husky laugh that makes Dean’s eyes crinkle at their corners. She’s outspoken and sarcastic, one of those unrealistic women who are feminine yet ‘one of the guys,’ and Dean is quickly enamored with her, although the worst part may be that Cas can’t really blame him. He watches one date become two, two dates become four, and dives into his problem sets with such fervor that he is sure he’s never worked harder in his life.

“Heya, Cas.”

Cas looks up from his reading, his gaze drifting to Dean who’s shutting the door with a sleepy smile. He’s wearing the same shirt and jeans that he left their room in the afternoon before, and Cas’ stomach flip-flops at how rumpled Dean’s clothes are - as though they were shed quickly and then tossed into a corner for hours. “Hello, Dean,” his voice is practically hoarse from disuse. “How was your date?”

“Aw, man,” Dean laughs, plopping down on the couch and insinuating himself into Cas’ space. “It was great, Cas. We went to a movie.” He laughs again, a little brighter this time. “Couldn’t tell you what it was about though.”

“You couldn’t… Oh.” Cas abruptly remembers the Clint Eastwood film they saw on Dean’s birthday, and how he’d spent those three long hours, wanting so badly to reach for Dean’s hand.

It’s Dean’s next words, though, that cause Cas’ eyes to dart up in panic.

“She, uh- She asked me what my plans were for spring break.” Cas can hear the alarm bells going off in his head, because he and Dean, they’d already- “I told her that I’m going home, bringing my best friend with me.” Dean smirks, nudging Cas’ thigh with his knee. It’s warm where they touch despite the fabric.

“Dean, if… It’s alright if you changed your mind.”

“Dude, no.” Dean sits up, a frown creasing his forehead. “It wasn’t even a question, Cas. I mean, I really _like_ Lisa but we’re just- I’m not gonna ditch you for a chick.” He settles against the cushion, offering Cas a stern look. “Besides, Sam said I, and I quote, ‘will not be let into the house’ without you, and he may be a teen but he’s a bitchy teen so I’m not gonna take that chance.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “You’re using me then?”

Dean grins, his expression laced with mischief. “Possibly.”

“This isn’t a very strong case you’re building for yourself.”

Dean shrugs, like that’s a sufficient counterargument, and maybe for Cas, it is. His eyes, meanwhile, languidly trace the contours of Cas’ face.

“You’ve got marker on your cheek,” he says. Cas rubs the back of his hand on his left cheek.

But Dean shakes his head. “No. Here.” He scoots a bit closer, the futon squeaking beneath him, and lifts his thumb to the other side of Cas’ face. He swipes it over the cheekbone, not roughly, just a solid press, and his skin feels rather cold, causing Cas to shudder.

“Pink highlighter,” Dean notes when he pulls his hand away. He glances down at his thumb then back at Cas, lips quirked up. “Such a nerd.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Says the engineering major.”

“Touché.” Dean laughs and continues to rub his thumb and forefinger together, making Cas wonder if the ink on his own skin has smudged. “Wanna get lunch?” Dean asks as he sinks back against the cushions. “It’s tacos or stir-fry today, so either way we win.”

“You are the only person I know who stalks the dining hall website.”

“It’s a website, Cas. I’m just letting it serve its purpose.”

“How kind of you,” Cas deadpans, but he’s already on his feet, walking toward the door.

Dean is one stride ahead, and his hand is on the doorknob when Cas gets there. Instead of twisting it, however, he stares at Cas, and stares some more.

“What?” Cas relents.

“Nothing,” Dean smiles faintly. “Looks like you’re blushing with just your right cheek.”

He taps Cas playfully on his cheek before heading out, at which point Castiel is undoubtedly sporting a full-faced blush.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

**Friday, April 14, 2006**

Cas spots Dean’s mom before Dean does, over the balustrade of the escalator as the two of them head down to baggage claim. She’s standing beside the little screen above the carousel, reading the flight numbers flashing in white on blue, and Cas feels a strange sort of tightness in his chest, because he’s missed Mary Winchester almost as much as he misses his own parents.

“There she is,” Dean says from behind him, and Cas simply nods as they’re jostled off the escalator onto the floor. Dean grabs his elbow to steer him through the crowd, calling out to his mom when they get close enough to catch her attention.

“Welcome home, boys,” Mary smiles as they walk up to her, her eyes flitting lightning-fast to where Dean’s fingers are still curled around Cas’ elbow. Cas’ cheeks color instantly, though his effort to pull away proves futile. Dean, for whatever reason, doesn’t let go till Mary steps forward to hug him.

“You must be tired,” she says to Dean, and the sigh he releases into her shoulder seems answer enough. She squeezes her son around the ribs and pulls back, pats him once on the cheek before turning to Cas. She then hauls _him_ into the same, motherly embrace, whispering “Good of you to come, sweetheart,” which makes Castiel blush harder and squirm.

“Mom,” Dean says reproachfully from the side, “you’re embarrassing him again.”

“Oh, really?” she teases lightly, shifting in her place to ruffle his hair. “Is that true, Cas?”

Cas ducks his head and rocks shyly on his feet, murmuring “No, it’s okay” and drawing a laugh from her, warm like honey. He thinks he hears Dean mutter ‘too damn polite’ under his breath, but Mary mentions something about cherry pie and Dean is tugging him toward the carousel to fetch their bags. “Been too long since we’ve had Mom’s pie, huh?” Dean says, and Cas just smiles in a way that’s happy but tentative, like he might be dreaming.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Dean’s father isn’t home yet when they pull into the driveway, though Sam is on spring break himself and bounds out the door as soon as they arrive. He’s like a colt, all gangly limbs and floppy hair, and Cas is swept into his arms before he can even process that Sam is sixteen and taller than him. In what universe is that fair, exactly? Dean seems to agree with Cas, if the complaints about Sam’s growth spurt are any indication.

“I missed you, Cas,” Sam says, hauling a suitcase out of the trunk. “Thanksgiving wasn’t the same without you here.”

Cas smiles widely as he slings his backpack over one shoulder. He’d come to Lawrence for Thanksgiving in freshman year, and although Dean came back to Pontiac with him the year after, Cas hasn’t seen Sam - outside of Skype - in two years. “I missed you too,” he says, following Sam into the house. “I would’ve flown down with Dean except my relatives decided that last fall was _the_ time for a reunion.”

“The nerve! How dare they?” Sam exclaims, which prompts Cas to laugh along all the way up the stairs.

Dean’s room hasn’t changed much, apart from the new bedding that’s dark navy instead of grey. There’s still the slanted ceiling, the shelves stacked high with books, and Cas notices the conspicuous lack of a guest cot right as Dean comes through the door trailing his suitcase.

“Home sweet home,” he sighs, dumping the baggage and immediately plunging face-down into the mattress. Sam rolls his eyes and announces “Dinner’s at six” before sauntering out the door, leaving Cas to stand by the bed uncertainly until Dean pats the space beside him with his palm.

Cas moves to sit against the headboard, stretching his long, cramped legs out in front of him. Dean, in the meantime, might be asleep with how motionless he is.

“Dean,” he says quietly, gingerly placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. He smiles when he hears a muffled “Yeah” in response and adds, “Should we ask your mom for the air mattress?”

Dean turns his head to look at him, a relief since Cas was starting to worry that he couldn’t breathe. He watches Dean blink up at him, green eyes hazy and his brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Uh, well…” Cas trails off, cheeks flushed. “I thought that you’d maybe…” _Maybe not want to share a bed with a guy who has a massive crush on you_. “I guess I thought I should check,” he finishes weakly.

Dean scoffs, but not unkindly; it’s more like he thinks Cas’ concern is unwarranted. “C’mon, Cas, it isn’t a big deal. And this is your home too, okay? Relax.” He smiles a little lazily, making Cas wish for nothing more than just to kiss him. “Plus, I don’t remember you asking for an extra bed two years ago. What gives? Don’t you love me anymore?” Dean pretends to sniffle into his pillow and if Cas were a stronger man he’d give his friend an amused shove and call it a day - but he isn’t, so he doesn’t.

“Dean, stop that,” he chides instead, and tries to laugh when Dean wipes at non-existent tears. “Let’s just forget that I said anything.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean hums. “You’re stuck with me.”

Cas refrains from telling Dean that the reason he didn’t need a separate bed two years ago was that he hadn't been in love with him.

Yet.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

**Thursday, April 20, 2006**

Falling in step with the Winchesters is even easier the second time around.

They accompany Sam to the movies, and run to the grocery store on an errand for Mary. It’s up to Cas to make sure that items like broccoli stay in the cart, though he does turn a blind eye to the extra pint of Ben and Jerry’s that ‘magically’ appears under the peas.

Dean drives them to his favorite haunts, and they marathon _Star Trek_ like it’s nobody’s business. They also visit Dean’s uncle Bobby at his garage, and don’t really mind it when John suggests that they stay and help him out.

The work is right up Dean’s alley; he’s all too happy about the grease stains on his pants and the goggle marks on his face. Cas, on the other hand, feels a little bit out of his element, but Bobby directs him to the phone and appointment book and says, “We could use some of your manners, boy.” And that is that.

So they keep busy, until they don’t - until break is almost over and Dean stays glued to his phone like it’s a part of him.

“Who are you texting?” Sam complains, because they’re at a bowling alley and he’s already had to remind Dean of his turn three times. “Geez, pay attention!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Dean’s phone chirps twice in the single minute that it takes for him to bowl.

“Seriously, Dean, put it away,” Sam pouts. “Cas didn’t fly to Lawrence to watch you text.”

“Wow, okay, _Mom_.” Dean makes a show of sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Happy?”

“Yes, thank you. Cas, it’s your turn.”

“And Cas isn’t a guest,” Dean argues, drawing in his feet so Cas can walk by. “He’s family. He’s capable of enjoying himself without me there. Right, Cas?”

Sam scowls in response and Cas smiles weakly before turning toward the lane.

Dean staves off his texting until after dinner, and then it’s almost non-stop again to the minute they’re getting ready for bed. Dean is already under the covers, grinning goofily as he reads a message, and Castiel goes to lie on his side, away from the light, before closing his eyes.

“Night, Cas,” Dean says quietly.

He sounds distracted, though, so Cas doesn’t answer.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

When Cas awakens, it’s the middle of the night, and there’s a weight pressing onto his body that makes him stir.

It’s Dean, of course - specifically his face smashed up against Cas’ shoulder. He’s hogging all the blankets and snuggling even closer, and soon he’s burrowing into Cas’ chest, an arm and leg wrapping around him for good measure.

Cas can’t think, his brain fogged over with sleep. A part of him revels in how nice Dean feels against him, while another reminds him cruelly that he can’t _have this_ , not in the way he wants.

Dean sighs in his sleep, a short, hot breath that Cas feels through his shirt. He briefly entertains the idea of embracing him back, but when Cas does move eventually, it’s to nudge Dean back to his own side so they no longer touch.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

 

**Thursday, May 11, 2006**

He receives Dean’s text while he’s crossing the quad to get to class.

‘Do we have beer?’ it reads, all lowercase with two question marks. Cas shakes his head and types back, ‘No, we’re out. Having a bad day?’

There’s no reply for a while and Cas stops walking to frown at his phone. He looks out of place among the other students who are lounging about, carefree, on the grass.

‘Lisa and I broke up.’

Cas had expected to feel nothing but happiness if, when, Dean gave him the news, but Dean had really liked Lisa and now Cas can picture him slumped on a bench somewhere, texting him. He feels terrible.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he sends to Dean, and it’s true; he hates it when Dean is sad.

His phone chimes again.

‘Guess it was bound to happen. Hang out with me tonight?’

Cas smiles even though Dean can’t see him. ‘Of course,’ he writes back. ‘I think _Dr. Sexy_ ’s on tonight.’

It turns out that he’s right, and it’s an episode neither of them has seen before. So they end up cooking some Top Ramen and watching it on mute, filling in all the dialogue themselves.

 

 

**Sunday, August 9, 2014**

“So you’re fine with meeting him this afternoon?”

“Yes, I’ll stop by the lab around two.”

“Who’s meeting who?” asks Dean as he maneuvers his way into the kitchen. It’s lunch time on the ISS and Bela and Cas are just finishing their meals.

“Aleksandr Voronin,” Bela replies. She’s speaking to Dean but her eyes are on her trail mix, floating above the table so she can pick out the almonds without fishing for them. “He’s a biologist from Moscow.”

“Huh,” Dean says, grabbing a burger for himself out of storage. It’s a poor excuse for one, unsurprisingly; his first order of business back at home will be to drive to the nearest diner. “What’s he researching?”

“His focus is oncology,” Cas explains. “He wants to compare insights on space radiation.”

“He’s very impressive, actually,” Bela adds. “Received his doctorate at twenty-six, speaks four languages. Not to mention easy on the eyes.”

“Bela,” Cas sighs, long-suffering, at which Dean laughs and chimes in, “Hey, now. No funny business in space, Talbot.”

“Oh, believe me, there won’t be,” Bela grins. “Besides, I’m not his type.”

Dean blinks at her. “Dude, you’re everyone’s type.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, darling,” she coos, “but let’s just say I’m not… _man_ enough for him.”

“Wh-” Dean blinks again. “Oh.”

“Indeed.” Bela rakes in the trail mix she hasn’t eaten, stuffs it in the pouch, and hands it to Dean.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

It’s by sheer coincidence that Dean finds himself outside the Destiny Lab at two. He definitely hasn’t been watching the clock, nor did he switch out his workout slot with Charlie. And now that he’s here - by, did he mention, pure happenstance - Dean figures he should step inside and say hello. It’s the polite thing to do, okay, and his Momma raised him right.

He spots Voronin first, and is disappointed to see that Bela was right. Voronin is tall, and obviously fit, with dark hair and grey eyes and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

“… and we’ll implant the embryos when we return to Earth,” the guy is saying. There’s only a hint of an accent to suggest that he isn’t American, though his English is perfect, grammatically and otherwise. “We’re hoping that the offspring will allow us to study mutations and the development of cancer.”

“That’s remarkable,” replies Cas. “Are you sure that I could be of any help?”

“You’ve helped already,” Voronin says, lifting his hand a bit to reveal a folder. “It was very considerate of you to bring me an excerpt of your work, though I was hoping we could chat more in person.”

Cas smiles back in that unassuming way of his. “We could chat as well.”

Dean decides that this is his timing to clear his throat.

“Dean?” Cas’ eyes are wide with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Do we have a guest?” Voronin says, with something amused in his smile that Dean immediately hates.

“Yes, um. Dr. Voronin, this is-”

“Alex. Please.”

“Alex,” Cas echoes. He then looks to Dean and waves a hand toward him. “This is Dean, my- A fellow flight engineer on my crew.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean.”

The biologist extends a hand and Dean grasps it tightly, baring his teeth. “Pleasure’s all mine, Voronin.”

Voronin quirks an eyebrow at that, which prompts Cas to interrupt, clearly worried. “Dean, shouldn’t you be using the ARED?”

Dean is awed at the implication that Cas has any clue, whatsoever, of his schedule, but the warmth in his chest fades as soon as he hears Voronin’s teasing “Skipping a workout?” Shit, Dean can’t _stand_ this guy.

“I traded with Charlie.” Dean directs the answer to Cas - while completely disregarding Voronin - so Cas, being who he is, interprets this as a reason to include him.

“Do you play any sports?” Cas ventures, purposefully shifting the conversation to more earthly things. “I’m a runner by preference, and there’s Dr. Lafitte on our crew who apparently enjoys wrestling bears.”

Voronin smiles. “I’ll surely fail to impress you if _that’s_ the standard I’m being held to. But I’m also a runner, five miles every day, rain or shine. Does that seem adequate?”

Cas tilts his head, smiling wryly. “I can do that.”

The Russian peers at Cas, not with desire, but with indulgence, as if he’s confident that he’ll get what he wants in due time. “Well, Cas, I’ll have to find a way to dazzle you before the expedition ends.”

Cas, to his credit, levels him with an evaluative look. “Good luck finding a bear in outer space.”

Voronin appears delighted, and Dean’s fingers clench into a fist inside his pocket.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“He was flirting with you.”

They’re on their way back to the USOS for a crew meeting, and Dean can’t seem to shake Voronin and Cas, all cozy, from his mind. He grumbles the complaint without even realizing he’d said it out loud, and the next time he glances up, Cas is frowning, unmoving beside him.

“Who was? Alex?”

“Cas, Jesus Christ,” Dean groans. He has a sudden déjà vu of freshman year when Meg Masters hit on Cas and Cas simply asked, “Is that a flirtation?” But for Pete’s sake, that was ten years ago.

Cas has still got his head cocked to the side, reminding Dean of a less complicated time.

“Trust me, Voronin’s got the hots for you. I mean, c’mon, it wasn’t even a _hint_ , what he was doing.” His intention is to poke fun at the painfully obvious smooth-talker, but when he turns around, Cas is frozen in place, looking… crestfallen. Damn it, Dean thinks. Is Cas actually interested?

“Hey,” he tries lamely. “I didn’t mean-” No, that’s a lie. “Do you li-” That just sounds junior-high.

“I don’t have a great track record of taking hints,” Cas says. He smiles at Dean like it hurts.

Dean spends the rest of the day on a fruitless attempt to decipher what he meant.

 

 

**Friday, May 26, 2006**

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow?”

Cas slows his typing to a halt and glances up, sees Dean at the other end of their couch, staring back. “I should be,” he says. “I’m meeting my project group at five but it’s just for an hour.”

Dean looks relieved, though Cas isn’t sure why. “Can you come to the Canoe Club at six-thirty?”

“The Canoe Club?” Cas tilts his head. “That’s pretty fancy, Dean.”

“Yeah, well. Their rolls are really good.”

Cas huffs out a laugh. He doubts that the wait staff would appreciate two broke college kids mooching the complimentary bread. “What’s the occasion?” he asks, because students typically eat there for three reasons. Either their parents are in town or someone’s turning twenty-one, or a longterm couple is about to get engaged. So he wonders why Dean wants to go, since his reason couldn’t be any of those three.

“The term’s almost over,” Dean shrugs. “Just thought we deserved a treat is all.”

The reply doesn’t strike Cas as entirely forthright, but it’s been a while since they’ve gone into town and Cas isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I suppose that’s fair,” he agrees quietly, and Dean goes off smiling again like it’s the best thing he’s heard all day.

“Six-thirty, don’t forget,” he says, as though Cas ever could. “And, uh, Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“Wear something nice.”

Cas is rendered mute as Dean grins, by the green eyes raking the length of his torso. He barely hears it when Dean elaborates, “Like a tie. You’ve got one, right?” His heart is getting ahead of his brain, pelleting his mind with _is this a date_ , _is this a date_ , _is this a date_.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

**Saturday, May 27, 2006**

Cas wouldn’t call himself a vain guy. His hair is too untamable to begin with, and he’s never had the will to be uncomfortable for the sake of style.

But he’s standing by his closet now, so peeved by his monotonous wardrobe that it’s ridiculous. He can’t remember the last time he gave his sweaters and khakis a second thought, yet here he is wishing that he owned an iron for his rumpled shirt. It’s white and creased and he puts it on, smoothes it out as best as he can. He ultimately earns a static shock for all his trouble, and tries not to feel embarrassed as he rummages the drawers for a tie he swears he has.

The tie, when he finds it, is half-buried under a dozen pairs of socks. He’s only worn it once before, for Thanksgiving dinner back at home last year, and Cas flushes at the memory of Dean fixing his tie, teasing him for wearing it backwards like a little kid. “This really makes your eyes look blue though,” he also said, and Cas replays the words with a smile as he knots his tie.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“Do you have a reservation?” asks the hostess when he walks in. It’s partway through the dinner rush and the restaurant is bustling with locals chatting over wine.

“No, I…” Cas throws a quick glance beyond her. “I’m meeting someone.”

“What would be the name?”

“Dean Winchester.”

She runs a manicured finger across the page of penciled-in names. “Your party is waiting,” she smiles, fetching a menu. “Right this way.”

He nods, takes a deep breath, and follows her.

Cas has dined here twice before, though never has the ambience struck him as so romantic. The candles at every table create a kind of soft, glowing effect, and it’s strange how the couples stand out to him the most among the patrons. He passes them, sees their heads bent in conversation, and feels a tingling in his nerves as if he’d been drinking, giddy and happy.

“Here we are,” the hostess says, setting the menu atop crisp white linen. “Enjoy your dinner.”

Cas hadn’t realized that they’d stopped walking, and he thanks her politely as his eyes drift over to Dean. He’s on the other side of the table, looking breathtaking in a grey shirt and tie, and for a second Cas is utterly mesmerized by the sight of him, until he follows the line of his arm, which is draped around-

“Lisa,” Cas chokes out. It feels like the air has been punched from his lungs.

“Hi, Cas,” she greets pleasantly, and Dean is right beside her, pressed against her. Cas can’t breathe. “Do you know Jenna? She’s a psych major, same as me.”

He doesn’t know Jenna. He doesn’t _care_ , but everything- Everything clicks the moment he turns to look at her. He sees the four-person table, Jenna’s assessing gaze, Lisa’s expectant smile, and Dean’s… Something inside him shatters at the thought that Dean asked him to dress up for a stranger.

“Excuse me.”

He’s already halfway out of the restaurant when he hears Dean yell for him.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“Cas! Hey, Cas, wait!”

Cas keeps walking, pretending not to hear him, and out of the corner of his eye he can see people around them starting to stare.

Still, he doesn’t stop.

“Cas!”

The footsteps get louder, running across the pavement now, and how pathetic is it that he’s so attuned to every part of Dean, even this. He picks up his pace and curses when a green light blocks him at the curb.

“Cas, Jesus!” A hand catches his elbow, spinning him around. “What the hell was that?”

The light changes to red, and the pedestrians who cross give them a wide, watchful berth.

“What did it look like?” he spits out. Dean flinches at the venom in his voice.

“You can’t just _leave_ like that, man. I was just-”

Cas cuts him off. “Just what, Dean? Please explain it to me because…” He feels the anger rise up in his throat like bile. “When did you get back together with Lisa?”

Dean blinks. “I… Last week. What does that- Cas, why are you so mad about this? Jenna’s a great girl. I thought you’d be happy!” He sounds adamant when he says this, so sincere in his belief that he was doing Cas a favor. Just a guy introducing his best friend to a pretty girl.

Cas wants to cry. He thought Dean _knew_.

“I don’t recall ever asking you to set me up with someone.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean pushes a hand through his hair, looking bewildered and frustrated. His other hand keeps Cas tethered to him, hard enough to bruise. “You’ve never dated anyone, never even showed _interest_ in anyone. I thought- I just thought it’d do you some good to try it out.”

Cas clenches his jaw, feels the muscles twitching there. “And why would I do that, Dean?” The words are tumbling out like marbles. “So I can end up like you?”

Dean frowns, flinching again. “… What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cas should stop. He should stop himself but it’s too late. He’s exasperated with Dean, and _tired_ , so when the tirade threatens to burst through his lips, he opens his mouth.

“I’ve known you for three years, Dean. Your longest relationship lasted two weeks. And then along comes Lisa, whom you happen to date for a month, and suddenly you’re qualified to give me advice? Did it occur to you that I might be waiting for something better? That maybe I want something more meaningful than a hookup? That I don’t want to get roped into some, some _bullshit_ college fling?”

The color slowly drains from Dean’s face, and he looks pale despite being cast in the sunlight.

“Of course you don’t know,” Cas says, and a laugh bubbles out of him, short and sharp. “I don’t know why I expected otherwise, why I ever hoped…” His throat feels tight and he can’t finish the thought.

“Cas…”

Dean’s eyes are huge and hurt, exuding shock and confusion and a myriad of other emotions that Cas has gotten too adept at reading. And he knows it isn’t fair, because Dean is still unaware of the truth, but the realization that he could _never_ be with Dean, can’t even _hope_ for it anymore, that Dean was the one who showed him how pitiful he’s been. It’s as if Cas didn’t know how exhausting it could be to yearn for someone, and now the fatigue is crashing down on him all at once.

“Please let me go,” he pleads, so quiet that it’s barely audible, even to him.

Dean stares and stares, suspended in disbelief, and then his hand slips from Cas’ elbow, going limp at his side and leaving behind an ache. Cas can feel the spots where his fingertips had pressed into skin.

The traffic light finally turns red, and a new batch of people begin to cross. Cas meets Dean’s eyes a final time and moves to join them, overcome with the urge to flee.

Dean doesn’t shout after him this time.

 

 

**Thursday, August 21, 2014**

Dean spends a good part of his day setting fires, extinguishing them and resetting them, testing fire suppressants alongside Benny. He sort of feels like a pyro by the time he heads to dinner, and wishes he could fire up a grill like he would at home.

There are voices coming from the kitchen, and Dean pauses when he recognizes both. The first belongs to Cas, all low and gruff yet warm at its core, and the second contains that accent again, as well as a charm that Dean finds unwelcome.

“I won’t be flying to Moscow right away,” says Voronin, the words noticeably hopeful.

“Oh?” Cas replies neutrally. “You’re staying in Kazakhstan?”

“No, uh, I’ll be visiting an old classmate of mine, near Houston.” Then a pause. “I was thinking we could get dinner then. Something not freeze-dried.”

Cas remains quiet and Dean can picture the thoughtful moue of his lips.

“Alex,” he finally says, and it’s soft, and maybe fond. Dean jerks back. “Alex, I’m flattered-”

“I’m only asking now because I couldn’t wait, Cas. But you have another month to mull it over.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, and Dean has no way to tell whether he’s considering the offer. He knows he’s eavesdropping shamelessly and his stomach sinks like he’s too late - though too late for what, exactly, he can’t be sure. He turns around to leave before Cas can say ‘yes’ and confuse him further.

He doesn’t actually run into Cas until later, after he’s washed up and returning to the bunks. Cas is on the exercise bike, which is more like a unicycle attached to the wall, and something inexplicable compels Dean to approach him, catching the other man by surprise.

“Dean,” he greets with a nod. “I didn’t see much of you today. Were you in the lab?”

“Yeah, Benny and I were working on the FLEX.” He shifts a little closer and Cas slows his pedaling.

“How did that go?” Cas inquires. His eyes are so blue and curious, and beautiful.

“Good. You know, makin’ fires, killin’ fires, the usual.”

“Another day in the life,” Cas quips, and god, Dean has missed him so much. So much.

“Hey, so…” Dean curls one of his hands around the handlebars, does the same with the other when Cas doesn’t protest. “What’s your plan when we get back to Houston?”

“Oh, um,” Cas appears thrown by the question. “Moving into a new apartment, actually. My old lease expired the week we flew out to Almaty.”

“That’s pretty nice timing,” Dean says, a bit more cautious as he adds, “No roommates?”

“I’m almost thirty, Dean,” Cas chuckles. “If I do get a roommate, I’d hope that we’re less than platonic.”

Dean chokes on the breath he just took. “Right, yeah. That… A fellow astronaut, then?”

Cas squints at him. “I don’t understand.”

Dean has the grace to lower his eyes, because there’s no other option than to disclose what he’d heard. “Voronin,” he says flatly. “Are you gonna go out with him?”

Cas isn’t smiling anymore when Dean looks up.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” His expression is perfectly stoic, and Dean could honest-to-god scream from frustration.

“Damn it, Cas. Of course it’s my business.”

The argument is weak and Dean knows it, and sure enough, Cas scoffs, his jaw setting in a hard line. “May I ask why?” he retorts, and the question, while polite on paper, sounds harsh when Cas grits it out.

“Because.” Dean tightens his grip on the handlebars, and pulls on them so his body surges forward. “Because…”

Cas’ lips are warmer than he imagined, chapped but sweet like mint, lush and soft. They part in a brief huff of surprise and Dean teases their curvature with his tongue. He swallows the breathy little gasp this induces, and lifts a hand to cup the back of Cas’ neck.

His fingers curl instinctively in Cas’ hair, and he keeps them there until Cas shoves him back.

“What are you doing.”

His tone is icy.

Dean grasps at a handlebar to prevent himself from drifting. “Cas, I-”

“You can’t _do this_ every time I try to…” Cas looks halfway between helpless and hapless. He moves a hand to his chest where Dean’s fingers are fisted in his shirt, and pushes them away too. Dean didn’t even realize he’d grabbed onto Cas.

“You can’t, Dean,” Cas murmurs again. “It isn’t fair.”

Dean wishes for the millionth time that he understood.

 

  

**Saturday, June 3, 2006**

Classes end in their usual, anticlimactic fashion, followed immediately by reading period and Dean suddenly has nowhere to be. He always prefers studying in his room, and so does Cas, which used to be great. But now Cas won’t speak to him and the space between their rooms feels far too vast.

Dean sets up camp on the futon regardless, catching Cas’ eye every time he leaves to go to the bathroom or get food. Cas lets him, every time, doesn’t shy away from looking right back, but then he’s gone before the tension can lead somewhere, so that’s where it stalls, fizzing and crackling.

It’s two days before his last exam when Dean talks to Cas again.

He’s still on the couch, feeling like he’s buried up to his neck in books. The knock on their door is almost a relief, and he hopes that it’s Jo, demanding that they go for ice cream.

But it isn’t Jo, or anyone from their floor. It’s not even Lisa, whom he wasn’t expecting anyway since she’s holed up in the stacks.

“Um,” Dean wonders if he’s got the wrong room. “Can I help you?”

“Dean, right?” the guy smiles. “Is… Cas here?”

“Yeah, he’s…” Dean steps aside to let him in. “You’re from the café.” He remembers him now, from the many times he’s visited Cas at work. Alfie struck him as pleasant enough, sort of shy and soft-spoken and obviously on good terms with Cas.

“Alfie,” a voice calls from behind them. Jesus, it’s been a week since Dean’s heard him.

“Hi, Cas,” Alfie replies, ducking his head. Dean’s gaze flickers to Cas, who looks almost _too_ put together for finals period.

Cas brushes past him and he’s shaved, and smells so nice.

“Should we go?” he asks Alfie. Dean still has no idea what’s going on.

“Sure,” Alfie says. “I thought of bringing you coffee but…” he bites his lip and his cheeks are kind of pink, “you’re probably tired of it.”

Cas laughs, and it’s like Dean’s not even there. “I am. I appreciate the thought though.” He smiles warmly at Alfie, who’s shorter than him but not by much, then bends in to drop a kiss on Alfie’s cheek.

Which.

What?

Alfie blushes hard, and Dean, too, feels the heat flaring on his face. Cas is- Dean never even _considered_ -

“Cas,” he interrupts loudly, “I need to talk to you.”

He waits for Cas to look at him, getting more and more pissed off by the second.

“I’m on my way out, Dean,” Cas says tiredly, and damn it, Dean can _see_ that but this is-

“It’s important.”

Alfie eyes him nervously, his hand wrapped loosely around Cas’ wrist. He’s small compared to Cas and something twists in Dean’s stomach at how good they look together.

It makes no sense.

“It’s fine, Cas,” Alfie says. “I’ll wait outside.”

“No, please stay here,” Cas tells him, and if Dean didn’t know better he’d say Alfie’s smile befits a lovesick puppy. “Dean and I can talk elsewhere.”

Cas starts toward his room and Dean follows, dozens of questions on the tip of his tongue. He hardly waits for Cas to shut his bedroom door before the first one spills out in a rush.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cas looks pained, looks practically _through_ him.

“You never asked,” he finally says, which leaves Dean speechless because it’s true.

“I…”

Cas turns partly away from him, wary. “You never asked, Dean,” he says again. “You just assumed.”

“I know I did. But Cas,” Dean lifts a hand, desperate, then lowers it defeatedly. “I wish you’d told me, man. I wouldn’t have brought Jenna to the dinner and made things awkward.”

It was an attempt to lighten the mood but apparently the wrong thing to say, because Cas’ head jerks up and his mouth curls into an angry twist.

“You think _that’s_ why I walked out on dinner?”

“I don’t know! I have no fucking clue, Cas. You haven’t exactly kept me up to speed here! For all I know, my screwup was that I didn’t introduce you to a guy!”

He can see Cas gathering himself up for more harsh words, though what does come sounds more upset than aggravated. “Don’t waste your time. I’m doing fine without your matchmaking.”

“Yeah, about that,” Dean bites back. “You found your something better, huh? Funny how that worked out just days after our little chat on the street.”

“… Don’t you _dare_ , Dean Winchester.”

Cas is close now, pushing into Dean’s space, his eyes flashing hot like blue fire. He’s glaring and enraged and all but trembling in his effort not to yell. “You don’t get to judge me,” he snarls. “I’ve known Alfie for a year, and I like him. I’m going to date him and, for the record, I’d rather sleep with someone I care about than anyone who’s willing. You don’t set the bar for everyone.”

“Right,” Dean laughs, and his voice is clipped and forced. “I’ve set it far too low for your standards.”

Cas is still glaring, both hands fisted at his sides. “Are you done?”

It feels like he’s been kicked, like he could be sent reeling if it weren’t for his own rage. “Yeah,” he grits out. “Yeah, Cas, I’m done. I think we’re done.”

Cas’ mouth tightens in a firm line. “Good. Then excuse me.”

Dean doesn’t move, but Cas walks around him anyway, and it’s the click of the doorknob that alerts him to head outside. He watches Cas go up to Alfie, who’s standing by the door, worrying his bottom lip. There’s a soft “Are you alright?” but Dean doesn’t catch what Cas says in return.

He remains rooted to his spot as they leave, his eyes tracing the way Cas’ hand rests on Alfie’s back. His mind continues to pulse with a fiery vexation he doesn’t understand, and he is flooded with an emptiness like he’s lost someone who wasn’t his to begin with.

 

 

**Wednesday, September 18, 2014**

The end of their mission is less than a month away, and while his research underwent admirable progress, Dean can’t really say the same for his personal life.

He tells his mom as much when he calls her that evening.

“I know it was hard for you” she tuts sympathetically. “It would be strange if it were easy.”

“Well, sure, but… I really miss it, Mom. You know, how things used to be.”

“Have you told him this?”

“Yes,” he blurts quickly, then backtracks. “More or less.” He hears a sigh. “I mean, we’re talking.”

“Honey,” his mom says, and something about the way she says it makes Dean feel like he’s five again. “Friendship may be all that Cas is ready for right now.”

“But he- Wait, what?”

“Just because it was eight years ago doesn’t mean-”

“Mom.” Dean adjusts his headset, just in case it’s a problem with the feed. “What was eight years ago?”

“… You were together for three years, sweetheart,” she says gently, as if to remind him. “It’d make sense for Cas to not want to rush back into it.”

That’s-

Oh.

Oh, god.

“Mom, we never-” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “We never dated.”

She pauses. “Are you sure?”

Dean would laugh if he didn’t find this totally ridiculous. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“I’m sorry, honey, we just assumed…”

“We?” Dean’s eyes are practically bugging out of his head. “Who else?”

She hesitates a little, then says, “Um, your dad and Bobby… and Karen.”

He wishes to bang his head somewhere but tells her it’s okay when she apologizes before hanging up. He thinks about that spring break, how she didn’t offer an air mattress like she normally would’ve for his other friends. In fact, she hadn’t offered one when Cas came over for Thanksgiving in freshman year, and now he wonders if they’d acted like a couple somehow, even then. And Christ, what did she think they’d been doing in his room every night?

He takes off the headset and moves to the computer.

> **To: harvelle.jo@gmail.com  
>  ** **From: dean.winchester@nasa.gov**
> 
> Hey, Jo.
> 
> Quick question. When we were in college, did you think I was dating Cas?

He must have caught her online because the response is almost immediate.

> **To: dean.winchester@nasa.gov  
>  ** **From: harvelle.jo@gmail.com**
> 
> This is a joke, right?
> 
> I was shocked when you started dating Lisa. I thought you were cheating on Cas. (Were you?)
> 
> Also, hi.

Well, then. 

> **To: harvelle.jo@gmail.com  
>  ** **From: dean.winchester@nasa.gov**
> 
> No, I wasn’t cheating on him. We weren’t dating.
> 
> **To: dean.winchester@nasa.gov  
>  ** **From: harvelle.jo@gmail.com**
> 
> You weren’t?!
> 
> Wow. Your loss, dude.

His email pings again but Dean is too baffled to check it; his mind is in scrambles.

He has so many questions floating through his head, like how many more people thought this, and why they didn’t bother to confirm anything _back then_. Then he thinks that maybe they didn’t because, according to them, it wasn’t even a question. That they all thought, well, of course they’re dating, and shit, if that doesn’t boggle his mind.

But were they _like_ that? He and Cas?

Everything with Cas always felt natural - comfortable - and Dean never stopped to think whether their actions might be misconstrued for something romantic.

They roomed together, ate together, stepped on each other’s toes on occasion - and maybe borrowed the other’s clothes from time to time, but it was college. People ran out of clean shirts.

And sure, he’d visit Cas at work, at the café, because traffic could be slow and Cas would be bored just having to wait. And on days he couldn’t drop by, Cas would bring the coffee to him, two sugars, one cream.

They’d spend mornings on the futon, arguing about _Star Trek_ , geeking over NASA. They would watch rocket launches in the dark, under their ‘stars,’ talk about their dreams and whether they would make it, if they could ever do it.

“Of course you can, Dean,” Cas would tell him, in all his blue-eyed sincerity, and Dean’s heart would feel too big for his chest because-

_Because-_

“Son of a bitch.”

It finally hits him in a powerful wave, and just like that he _sees it_. It’s so fucking clear.

Cas, he thinks.

It’s been Cas all along.

He’s turning away from the computer when he glimpses it. Today’s date in the corner, the eighteenth of September.

Dean is hit with a second epiphany and he laughs.

Son of a bitch.

He rushes to the sleeping quarters, finding them empty save for Cas, who’s standing by his pod.

“Do you know what day it is?”

Cas startles, then eyes him warily. “What are you talking about, Dean?”

“Just answer the question.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

Dean huffs impatiently. “Cas, c’mon. What’s the date?”

Cas frowns and looks at his watch. “The eighteenth. Dean, what is this about?”

“You really don't remember?”

“I’m not in the mood for a guessing game.”

Dean takes a deep breath and braces himself. “Richardson Hall. Room 205. September 18, 2004.”

A few seconds of silence, and then, “Dean.”

The edge in his voice has faded, helping Dean find the courage to move closer.

“Hi. I’m Dean. You must be Castiel, my roommate.”

He sees Cas’ eyes ignite with the memory, of a crisp fall day ten years ago when they met and shook hands and Cas said-

“Hello, Dean. You can call me Cas.”

Dean smiles and reaches up to cup his jaw. “Remember now?”

Cas has let go of his sleeping bag, and his free hand flexes a bit before settling on Dean’s waist. “Yes. But Dean, I don’t know why…”

“My mom thought we were dating.”

Cas frowns again, though it isn’t the unhappy kind. “She… What?”

“I know,” Dean laughs. “She thought you were my boyfriend in college, and apparently so did Dad, Uncle Bobby, and Aunt Karen. As did Jo.”

“But…” Cas bites his lip, and Dean suddenly has this crazy urge to bite it too. “But we weren’t, Dean. I was just in love with you.”

Well, Dean hadn’t seen _that_ coming.

“What?” he says helplessly.

Cas smiles tentatively, and it’s kind of like watching the sun rise. “I was in love with you. I would’ve given anything to be your boyfriend, Dean.”

Dean drops his hand to Cas’ shirt, and clutches at the fabric because he feels like collapsing, microgravity be damned. “You _were_ in love with me?” he asks, so nervous that he thinks he might burst. “What about- What about now?”

Cas’ features soften completely. “Dean, I’m…” He wraps his own hand around Dean’s on his chest, then brings it to his mouth to brush a kiss against the knuckles. “I fell in love with you in freshman year, on Christmas Day. I was in my room after dinner, watching the snow… and then you called me. Do you remember?”

Dean’s heart thumps erratically and he nods, swallowing hard.

“God, we talked for hours, until my phone died,” Cas chuckles. “I looked at my phone after and thought, how can I still miss him? And then I knew.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes quietly, and twists his hand in Cas’ grip, weaving their fingers together.

“That’s when I knew,” Cas says again, “and it hasn’t changed.” He pulls Dean closer until they’re nose-to-nose, their cheeks flushed pink. “I love you, Dean Winchester. I always have.”

Dean doesn’t know which of them moves first, just that they’re kissing a second later and he feels it deep in his bones, loud and resounding. It’s chaste, and kind of dry, warm where Cas’ thumb touches his jaw, but Dean still whimpers into it, winding both arms around his neck to pull him close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against Cas’ mouth. “I was so blind, I- I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” Cas soothes, wrapping two strong arms around Dean’s back. It’s a gentle gesture, but passionate, and Dean swears he could kiss Cas forever. “I’m sorry too, Dean. I was awful to you.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “I was an idiot.”

Cas kisses the corner of Dean’s mouth. “So was I.”

“We both were,” Dean concludes, and sucks Cas’ bottom lip between his teeth.

Cas moans, soft and low, and though they’re floating, the kiss itself feels a lot like free fall.

“I love you,” Dean says when he pulls away. “I think I have for a really long time.”

 

 

**Thursday, April 20, 2006**

**Lisa Braeden (4:35 pm):** what are you up to? :)  
**Dean Winchester (4:37 pm):** hey!  
**Dean Winchester (4:37 pm):** out bowling with cas and my brother  
**Lisa Braeden (4:37 pm):** cool. how’s cas?  
**Dean Winchester (4:38 pm):** good! we spent like four hours at a diner yesterday  
**Lisa Braeden (4:39 pm):** ???  
**Dean Winchester (4:39 pm):** haha we went for bfast and stayed till lunch  
**Lisa Braeden (4:39 pm):** doing what?  
**Dean Winchester (4:40 pm):** idk just talking i guess

“Dean,” Sam calls out. “It’s your turn.”

**Lisa Braeden (4:43 pm):** what else have you been up to?  
**Dean Winchester (4:46 pm):**  hanging out. taking it easy  
**Dean Winchester (4:47 pm):**  helping my uncle at his garage  
**Dean Winchester (4:47 pm):** cas had to man the phone haha  
**Dean Winchester (4:48 pm):** bc he’s the nice one. and my uncle needs to stop yelling at ppl

“Dean, c’mon!”

Sam throws an epic bitch face his way and Dean merely smirks at him before rising from his seat.

**Lisa Braeden (4:51 pm):** yeah cas seems really nice  
**Dean Winchester (4:54 pm):** too nice sometimes  
**Dean Winchester (4:55 pm):** my parents love him  
**Dean Winchester (4:55 pm):** sammy loves him more than me  
**Lisa Braeden (4:56 pm):** aw i’m sure sam loves you too  
**Dean Winchester (4:56 pm):**  ha thanks babe

“Who are you texting?” Sam grouses loudly. “Geez, pay attention!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Seriously, Dean, put it away,” his brother pouts. “Cas didn’t fly to Lawrence to watch you text.”

“Wow, okay, _Mom_.” Dean tucks his phone into his pocket, very slowly. “Happy?”

“Yes, thank you. Cas, it’s your turn.”

Dean moves his feet out of Cas’ way so he won’t trip. “And Cas isn’t a guest,” he adds. “He’s family. He’s capable of enjoying himself without me there. Right, Cas?”

Sam glares daggers at him while Cas offers back a small smile. It’s kind of pretty.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

 **Lisa Braeden (10:46 pm):** so bowling was fun?  
**Dean Winchester (10:53 pm):** yup cas won  
**Dean Winchester (10:53 pm):** typical  
**Lisa Braeden (10:54 pm):** hmm what’s the plan tomorrow?  
**Dean Winchester (10:55 pm):** dunno yet. there’s this store in town i want to take cas to  
**Dean Winchester (10:55 pm):** they sell these ugly sweaters and call them vintage. it’s awesome  
**Dean Winchester (10:56 pm):** we’ll prob try a bunch on and take stupid pictures  
**Dean Winchester (10:56 pm):** we’re kinda lame :)

Beside him, Cas slips under the covers, but turns on his side away from Dean, unlike normal.

Dean frowns. “Night, Cas,” he hedges quietly.

Cas doesn’t respond, and Dean hopes that he’s already fallen asleep, not ignoring him.

That's a weird train of thought, he thinks, then shrugs it off.

 **Dean Winchester (10:59 pm):** hey think i’m gonna go to bed  
**Dean Winchester (10:59 pm):** text me tomorrow?  
**Lisa Braeden (10:59 pm):** sure  
**Lisa Braeden (11:00 pm):** have fun with cas  
**Dean Winchester (11:01 pm):** haha i will :)

 

 

**Sunday, October 12, 2014**

“Can’t believe we're heading back tomorrow.”

Dean is settled into his sleeping bag, its attachment to the wall a source of respite from constant weightlessness. He rests his head on Cas' shoulder and savors the feeling of their bodies pressed close.

“I should never have mentioned the two-person sleeping bags,” Bela says as she passes by. There’s a smile on her lips but she forces it upside down, heaving a sigh instead. “Honestly, what happened to ‘no funny business,’ Winchester?”

Dean smiles back lazily. “Cas happened.”

Bela groans balefully and flips him off.

“I think you’ve thoroughly scarred them for life,” Cas chuckles, and scoots closer to press a kiss to Dean’s temple. “But yes, I can’t believe it either.”

Dean sighs at the sensation of Cas nosing his hair, then buries his face into the crook of Cas’ neck, kissing him there. “Was it everything you wanted it to be?”

“It was.”

Cas swallows thickly around the words and Dean shivers when he feels the bob of Cas’ Adam’s apple.

“Me too,” he replies softly. Their eyes lock the instant he looks up. “We’re going home.” 

Cas smiles and it’s breathtaking, his eyes gone soft and dark, forever tender. He tips his head down so they can kiss, a gentle touch, and Dean finds his hand between their hips, squeezing tightly.

He isn’t sure how long they kiss, as his sense of time seems to dissipate the second Cas pulls him in. They break apart once the kiss simmers to a sweet, smiling press of lips, and Cas’ palm comes up to cradle Dean’s face like it’s a treasure.  


“Let’s go home, Dean,” Cas murmurs, and he says it so lovingly, as though ‘home’ and ‘Dean’ were synonymous to him.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

**Wednesday, November 26, 2014**

They’re back in Lawrence for Thanksgiving when it happens, which Dean thinks is probably poetic justice, or something.

They’ve checked into a hotel, because Sam and Jess are also in town with her family. Dean thought it’d be best to let the Moores stay in the house rather than them, though what he received - for all his hospitality - was one knowing smile after another as he left the house. Friggin’ ungrateful, Jesus Christ.

That being said, he’s currently lost every motivation to complain, because Cas is kissing him like a man drowning, so deep and eager, driving him crazy.

And a hotel means he doesn’t have to be quiet.

Cas presses himself along the length of his body, and Dean throws his head back the moment their hips line up.

“Oh,” he moans, his voice already shaky with need. Cas isn’t doing much better himself, as he drops his head to pant against Dean’s collarbone.

“Dean,” he breathes, and Dean feels the erection inside his slacks, hard and straining. He tries to thrust up against him, desperate to find more friction, but is instead reduced to frantic groans when Cas’ tongue flicks out to taste the salt gathering on his skin.

“Fuck,” Dean mewls. “Cas. _Cas_ , c’mon, I want to-”

Cas slows his hips and pulls back, his eyes completely lust-blown.

“Tell me what you want.”

Dean mewls and tugs on his boyfriend's shirt, nearly ripping off a button in his haste. “You,” he answers in a whimper. “I want you.”

He hears a stutter in Cas’ breath, sees it too in the way Cas squares his shoulders. “Dean, are you sure? We haven’t-”

“I know,” Dean cuts in gently, touching the soft pads of his fingers to Cas’ mouth. “I want to. I’m ready.”

Cas moans lowly like he can't help it, but sobers fast. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs softly. He peers down at Dean and it’s so earnest, despite their passion.

“You won’t,” Dean assures him. “Just- I’ve never been a guy, so. Go slow.”

“Of course,” Cas promises, kissing one of Dean's fingertips, and his subsequent smile is endearingly shy. “Dean, I think you should know that I… I haven’t done this before either.”

Dean blinks at him in surprise.

“… You haven’t? But you… What about Alfie?”

Cas’ eyes widen and he laughs, shaking his head. “No, he and I never…” He trails off and swoops in for another kiss. “No one,” he says over Dean’s lips, and Dean’s heart races in its cage at his voice, all gravel-rough.

“I’ve only ever wanted you, Dean. Just you. Thought about this so much.” Cas sighs into the confession and it’s truly the best thing Dean’s ever heard.

He mirrors the sound, hands fluttering on Cas’ strong chest. “Cas, I need you. I need you… want you so bad.”

Cas growls and Dean  _feels_ it, in the shudder that zips under his skin. He’s trembling and certainly not above whining, especially when Cas moves away to straddle his lips. Dean watches Castiel remove his shirt to fling aside, and blushes at the look in Cas’ eyes, raw and hungry. He barely has a chance to catch his breath before Cas dives down, and cries out desperately when Cas clamps around his pulse point, sucking hard.

“Cas!” Dean shouts, and his fingers wind right into Cas’ hair, messing it up. Cas groans into his skin and moves both of his hands to open Dean's shirt. Once it’s unbuttoned, exposing a new expanse of skin, Cas seems unable to keep his hands still and sweeps them all across Dean’s chest and stomach, down to his hips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Cas whispers to him, which definitely makes Dean flush everywhere if he weren’t before. But the praises don’t stop, each one more reverent and sincere than the last. Words like “lovely” and “gorgeous,” “perfect for me” and “ _mine_ ,” all leaving Dean feeling breathless and valued and adored.

“Dean,” Cas pants, once he’s thoroughly ravished Dean with kisses and praise. “We don’t have…”

“There was lotion in the bathroom,” Dean says, then gazes up at Cas through his lashes, sort of cautious. “And, um… I’m clean.”

“You’re…” Cas looks overwhelmed. “Dean, I wouldn’t want you to-”

“Hey,” Dean finds Cas’ hand in their loose tangle of limbs, loving how warm it always is when he does. “This isn’t a spur of the moment thing, okay? I’m- I mean, I don’t know about you but… You’re it for me, Cas. There won’t be anyone else.”

He’d been playing the words in his mind for weeks, but actually saying them out loud is oddly terrifying. For a crazed, nerve-wracking second Dean is scared that Cas might not reciprocate, and relief courses through him when Cas kisses him long and deep and replies, “You’re it for me too.” 

They don’t manage to pull away from each other until it’s three kisses later and Dean’s mouth is red. 

Cas disappears into the bathroom and Dean shrugs off his pants and underwear while he’s gone. He’s practically buzzing with anticipation while he waits, though heat overpowers his nerves when Cas comes back. Cas must’ve felt fairly impatient himself because he’s in nothing but his boxers and looks delectable, utterly fuckable.

“Jesus, Dean.”

Cas gasps at the wanton sight of Dean sprawled on the bed, and rakes his darkened blue eyes over his body. Dean props himself up on his elbows to return the gaze, incapable of ignoring the damp spot in front of Cas’ underwear.

“Cas, come here,” Dean smiles, and there’s not a second of hesitation in how swiftly Cas obliges him.

In an instant, Cas is kneeling between his legs, placing his hands on Dean’s thighs to push them apart. Dean fists his fingers into the sheets on either side him, gripping them tight when Cas traces his hipbone with the flat of his tongue.

His cock is bobbing against his stomach now, a large drop of precome gathering at the head. It’s pink and swollen and Cas leans forward to lap at his slit. Dean’s reaction is instantaneous and he tenses up, gasping Cas’ name.

Cas observes him as if mesmerized, running his tongue in a longer stripe up the throbbing length. He then lowers his mouth over the tip of Dean’s cock to suck in earnest, and Dean’s eyes flutter against the pleasure that builds, and builds.

“I don’t-” Dean chokes out, pushing his hand into Cas’ hair as a warning. “Cas, I… I don’t want to come yet. Please.”

Cas mercifully pulls off his dick and gives it a kiss, looking deliciously debauched with his spit-slick lips and mussed hair.

“Shit, you’re hot,” Dean mumbles in his haze, and Cas turns red as he reaches for the lotion by his leg.

“Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me?”

Dean hums and hones in on Cas’ long, graceful fingers, now wetly greased. “Just stating a fact,” he replies coyly, then bites back a groan at Cas rubbing his fingers together to coat them.

“You have to tell me if it’s uncomfortable,” Cas instructs, “or if at any point you want me stop.” He waits for Dean to nod before moving closer, slow and steady.

Dean’s whole body starts the moment Cas’ finger touches his entrance, and Cas soothes him with a trail of butterfly kisses, pressing them chastely along the jut of his hipbones.

“Is this alright?” he asks between kisses, the tone of it so gentle that a warmth blooms deep in Dean’s chest.  


“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “Yeah, I’m good, Cas. K-keep going.”

Cas nods and does just that, kissing Dean’s thighs as he teases his hole. When his finger slips inside, careful and patient, up to the first knuckle, Dean groans and spreads his legs even wider because it isn’t enough, not enough, he needs more. Cas works in another knuckle, shifting minutely, eyeing Dean’s response. And then he twists the digit just so, hitting a spot that makes Dean writhe, and he begs Cas to do it again, please, right there, Cas, _please_ , growing more and more incoherent as Cas pumps his finger in and out and adds a second.

By the third finger, Dean is thrusting back, gasping and whining, spewing inanities. Cas’ breaths are equally ragged, and when neither can wait any longer he pulls out and guides Dean’s thighs around his waist as he lines up.

“I love you, Dean,” Cas says, his sweet blue eyes filled with nothing but love. Dean is absolutely overcome, with emotion and need and want, and when he says “I love you” back, he doubts he’s meant anything more in his life.

He keens as Cas pushes into him, because even with the lotion he can feel the drag of Cas’ skin as they connect. His cock is hot and hard, and Cas’ brows are furrowed in his effort to go slow. Dean gasps, biting his lip to stop from moaning, and loops one arm around Cas’ shoulders to pull him close.

“Are you okay?” Cas asks breathlessly, linking his own hand with Dean’s beside the pillow.

“Y-yeah,” Dean moans as Cas inches forward, and nothing calms him more than Cas’ “I’ve got you, Dean. I got you. Relax.”

They gasp when Cas bottoms out eventually, their foreheads pressed together, breathing against each other’s mouths. Cas then licks into Dean’s mouth until Dean hums and goes pliant beneath him, and he begins to move once Dean tries to thrust back.

It’s torturously slow at first, just Cas rocking shallowly back and forth. He’s dropped his head to Dean’s shoulder, mouthing hotly at his neck as he thrusts, and draws out moan after moan after broken moan, circling his hips to set the pace.

“Cas,” Dean whimpers, his legs splaying open as Cas speeds up, thrusting faster. They go deeper each time and Cas feels so good, so big inside him. It’s wild and frantic and desperate beyond measure, and Dean already knows he’s not going to last.

“Could you-” Cas gasps between thrusts. “Do you think you can come like this?”  


Dean has no idea but the heat in his belly is coiling dangerously fast. “Ngh, yeah,” he pants. “Cas. Cas, kiss me.” 

Cas tries, valiantly, but can’t seem to manage it around his grunting moans. The movement does push Dean’s leaking cock against Cas’ abdomen, though before Dean can fully enjoy the friction, Cas shifts - and _god_ , it’s-

Searing pleasure shoots down his spine, and with the sudden pounding on his prostate, Dean’s balls tighten and rip a climax out of him, a blazing rush. It’s a tidal wave of euphoria, one that retreats then crashes back, sharp and intense. He shouts Cas’ name and feels so _sensitive_ , it’s all too much, and doesn’t realize Cas has stopped moving until there are lips pressing into his cheek.

“I’m here,” Cas says. “I’m here.”

“Cas,” Dean murmurs, reaching up to caress Cas’ face. “Baby, I want you to come.”

Pure heat flashes through Cas’ eyes and he rocks his hips again, gentle initially but confident. The thrusts intensify quickly - Dean can’t believe it can feel this good after he’s come - and he lets the encouragements tumble from his lips, dotted with more endearments that shockingly don’t faze him.

“Dean, god,” Cas growls as he thrusts. “You feel amazing. I love you. You’re-” He plunges into Dean’s body a final time, his mouth dropping open in a silent cry as he comes. His cock pulses and shudders, deep inside Dean’s body, flooding it with warmth as he rides out his orgasm.

He collapses on top of Dean, trembling with the aftershock. Dean’s arm winds tightly around his neck, and they just lie there for a long, blissed-out moment.

“Damn,” Dean says, his breath ruffling Cas’ damp hair. Cas laughs with him and pushes his face into Dean’s neck.

He pulls out after a while, bringing Dean with him as he rolls onto his side. Dean goes willingly, peppering Cas’ chest with kisses, and then he turns his head to meet Cas’ lips, grinning sort of dopily because it’s so perfect, and he’s happy.

“That was…”

Cas shifts so he can see him. “It was…?”

Dean can only laugh, because his nerves are still fizzing with remnant pleasure. “It was great, Cas. You made it great.”

Cas looks so relieved that Dean wants to kiss him - so he does.

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” Cas says, and Dean finds it unbelievable that this handsome, _brilliant_ man is _his_.

There are so many things he wants to say, like enough ‘I love you’s to make up for lost time, or what their new dream might be now that they’re together.

But he supposes that they’ll get to all that in due time, because he’s staying as long as Cas will have him.

For now, though, he drops an affectionate kiss on Cas’ cheek, and peers into that ethereal blue to voice the sentiment that, for him, sums up their journey (so far).

“Thank you for waiting for me.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> A soundtrack for this fic can be found [here](http://8tracks.com/youaresunlight/stellar).
> 
> As always, your feedback is very much appreciated. Do leave me kudos, comments, and love! :) ♥
> 
> I'm also [puppycastiel](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/post/109695854206/dean-cas-astronaut-au-all-things-considered-dean) on Tumblr. Feel free to follow me there for shorter fics and prompt fills.


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